


A Tale of Two Thieves

by the_wistful_traveler



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, M/M, a bit of domesticity, some very slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wistful_traveler/pseuds/the_wistful_traveler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo's motives for going on Gandalf's ridiculous quest across Middle Earth to fight a dragon were really not that complicated: Nori was there, and Bilbo would be damned if he let Nori go without him.</p><p>Or, in which Bilbo is more familiar with a certain member of the company than the others are entirely comfortable with.</p><p>
  <i> Edit <b>13/08/2014</b>: Hi guys - I've been asked several times so I'm just putting a general note out (sorry I didn't do so sooner, I guess I didn't realize I needed to): This story is NOT abandoned and WILL BE continued. I am currently completing a very rigorous Master's program right now and need to focus all my attention on that. AToTT will be updated later this fall when I've finished my dissertation. Thank you all for your patience and understanding! Much love. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been with me for a while, so I finally decided to start writing it. It's my first attempt at a multi-chapter story in a while, and history has shown that I am not particularly good at finishing them. Please be aware that updates will most likely not be swift or regular. 
> 
> Rating and tags are subject to change.

Summer had come early to the Shire, or at least it seemed that way to Nori. It was early morning, just enough for the horizon to be more pink than black, and already a pleasantly warm breeze was sweeping through the trees. Life was beginning to show in the small community, the distant sound of voices and domestic animals mingling with the sounds of wildlife. 

Nori opened the gate to Bag End carefully, wincing slightly at the creak it emitted as it eased it shut again. He took the stairs two at a time, anxious to get inside before anyone spotted his presence. He tested the door, and it opened easily for him. Nori slipped inside, absently locked the door behind him, and finally, he relaxed. 

Bag End was dark and silent, the only light coming from the tendrils of sunlight creeping their way across the cool wood floor from the windows. Silently setting his bag down by the door, he made his way easily to the back of the house and to the master bedroom. The door was cracked open, and he grinned at the sight inside. 

Bilbo was sprawled – there was really no other word for it – on his stomach across the sheets of his bed, the blanket haphazardly covering his left leg and trailing onto the floor. Nori took a step forward, belatedly remembering the creaky spot in the floor. A whine echoed in the room, shockingly loud in the stillness, and Nori cursed, hoping against hope that Bilbo hadn’t awoken. 

Luck was not on his side. 

The small figure rustled, turning over to look sleepily in the direction of the door. 

“Nori?” Bilbo’s sleep-scratched voice whispered. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me.” Bilbo stared at him, and Nori could almost see his brain attempting to form words through the fog of slumber and the siren song of his bed. He nearly laughed. 

“You’re late,” Bilbo decided on finally. 

“So late, in fact, it’s early,” Nori said softly. Bilbo turned over again, looking in the direction of the window, and groaned at the pale light that peeked under the curtains. 

“I’ll get the ket– ket –” His words broken off with a yawn, and Nori finally let loose the fond laugh that was threatening to break free. 

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m just gonna wash up and I’ll be back.” 

“Mm-hmm,” Bilbo replied sleepily, already burrowing his head back into the pillows. Fifteen minutes later, Nori was reentering the bedroom, much cleaner than when he arrived, and clad in a basic loose long-shirt. He slipped into bed, curling an arm around his unresponsive partner, and drifted into sleep. 

\--------------------

“How long are you staying this time?” 

Bilbo finally broached the question Nori had been dreading. Although, the dwarf mused, it had taken longer than he expected. Nearly a week had passed in the quiet domesticity he had come to expect and even enjoy in the Shire. There were shared meals, and tea, and sometimes walks to the market, and he always went to bed with a warm body at his side. 

Nori sighed and put aside the apple he was peeling. “I can’t stay more than few days longer,” he admitted, and had to look away at the pain in Bilbo’s eyes, even if his face remained carefully indifferent. 

“Another job?” Bilbo enquired evenly. That was another thing Nori had come to enjoy. Bilbo knew the dwarf was a thief, and while Nori couldn’t exactly say whether or not Bilbo approved, he certainly had never let it keep him from welcoming Nori whenever he managed to visit. It was a nice reprieve from Dori’s attitude, certainly. 

“No, not this time,” Nori admitted. “My brothers need me.” And Mahal, if only he could tell Bilbo what he was going to do, that he was journeying to reclaim Erebor and kill a dragon. And – Nori closed his eyes painfully – if only he could tell his hobbit he would likely never see him again. But he couldn’t. He had sworn his silence to Thorin, and to that oath he would keep, even if it broke his heart. 

Bilbo’s beaming smile at the suggestion that he was visiting Dori and Ori only made the pain worse. The hobbit knew full well how difficult his relationship with his older brother was, and how much he wished he could be closer to the younger. 

“Good,” Bilbo said firmly. “You can take Ori that late Second Age Gondorian journal we traded the Rangers for in Bree.” The crack split open, and in two steps Nori was pulling Bilbo into his arms and kissing him desperately, but Bilbo didn’t seem to notice his turmoil, instead humming happily into the kiss. 

“I love you,” Nori admitted as they broke apart. Bilbo stared at him in surprise for a moment before he relaxed and tapped his forehead against Nori’s gently. 

“And I you,” Bilbo replied before he leaned up to kiss the dwarf again. 

Two nights later, Nori was shouldering his pack by the front door, dressed once more in his ragged travel-stained clothes and leathers. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” Bilbo quipped, but the familiar bantering remark couldn’t quite hide the sadness in his eyes. 

“Goodbye, Bilbo,” Nori said softly. He took a step into Bilbo’s personal space and opened his mouth as if to say something, but shook his head and chose instead to kiss the hobbit one last time. Then he turned and was heading away from Bag End. Bilbo stood in the doorway until he could no longer see the dark smudge of his outline against the trees, and only then did he close the front door, his heart heavy in his chest. 

\--------------------

“I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.” 

It had been nearly a month since Nori’s departure. Bilbo stared at Gandalf incredulously, pipe hanging from his mouth and mail in his hands. The wizard stared straight back, staff in his hands and a mild expression upon his face. Bilbo’s hands clenched around the letters, and it was the sound of crackling parchment that snapped him out of his disbelief. 

“No,” Bilbo said succinctly as he rifled through the letters. Nothing from Nori. It was unlike the dwarf to go so long without writing, but Bilbo tried to not let it worry him. It didn’t mean anything, really; there were a hundred different ways a letter could be delayed, especially as he didn’t know for sure where Nori was writing from. 

“You haven’t even heard what it’s about,” Gandalf said, frowning slightly now. 

“I said, no.” Bilbo stood, tapped the ash out of his pipe, and arranged the letters more securely in his other hand. “I have things to do, and I want no part of your adventure. Try Bree if you’re so inclined; you might find someone more amenable to your ideas. Good day, Gandalf.” With that, he nearly stomped up the stairs into Band End and closed the door behind him. “Adventure,” he muttered to himself again, dropping the mail onto a nearby table. 

He refused to leave Bag End to go on something as ludicrous as an adventure. And, although he would not tell Gandalf this, he would not leave Bag End cold and empty. The thought of Nori returning to a cold, closed-up house and nobody to greet him made him cringe. No, he would be staying right where he was. 

Bilbo Baggins was, in fact, so caught up in his internal musings that he failed to notice the faint scratching sound of a rune being carved into his door as he walked away to put the kettle on.


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo joins the Company, and feelings are discussed. Sort of.

Nori was the last to arrive at the Prancing Pony, slipping unobtrusively in through the side entrance – old habits were hard to break, and he hadn't survived this long by being stupid – and taking a seat beside Gloin. 

“Afternoon,” he greeted cheerily as he dropped his pack alongside his chair. There were a chorus of replies from the seven other dwarfs and one wizard. 

“You took your time,” Dori said disapprovingly. Nori shrugged. 

“I had a long trip,” he said vaguely. He had gone to the Blue Mountains after he left the Shire, mostly to tie up loose ends and such, but they didn't really need to know that. “Besides, I’m hardly the latest one. I don’t see Dwalin, Balin, Fili, Kili, or Thorin, do you?” 

“They’ll be arriving separately,” Gandalf broke in, cutting off the argument before it could start. Nori settled back easily, catching Ori’s eye and offering a smile. His younger brother grinned back, even waving slightly from where he sat beside Dori. 

“And where exactly might we be headed?” Bofur asked, lounging back in his chair, hands wrapped around a pint of ale on the table before him. The taproom was mostly empty save for the barkeep cleaning tables on the other side of the room. 

“West,” Gandalf said vaguely, and Nori felt himself freeze. There wasn't much West of Bree save the Shire and Ered Luin, and if their burglar were coming from the dwarfish kingdom, he would have certainly joined them by now. “Yes, Master Nori?” Nori blinked and realized he was standing. 

“Ah, nothing,” he said easily, sitting back down in his spot. He was being ridiculous. Even if Gandalf had recruited a hobbit, it was almost certainly not going to be his Bilbo, who had shown nothing but distaste for the idea of leaving the Shire and running all over Middle Earth on untold adventures. 

“Hmm, indeed,” Gandalf said, giving him a queer look before dropping the matter entirely. “I suggest you gentlemen finish your drinks and get your ponies ready; we have more than a half-day’s ride ahead of us.” 

Slowly conversations picked up between the dwarfs as they nursed what might well be their last pint of ale for many months, and Nori got a chance to move over to greet his brothers. “Dori, Ori,” he said, accepting Ori’s hug and offering a nod to the elder. 

“How have you been?” Dori asked, watching his two younger siblings. Ori pulled back, although he couldn’t quite hide how happy he was to have both of his brothers back again.

“Well, thank you,” Nori answered, completing the routine the two went through every time they met. It had been like this for years, ever since Nori started disappearing for months on end and getting arrested for various crimes. “Oh, Ori, picked something up for you,” he said, squatting down by his pack to rifle through it for the journal. “Traded some Rangers for it a while back,” he continued, holding it out to the younger. “Thought you might like it.” The delighted gasp Ori gave was more than enough answer, even without the second hug that Ori bestowed. 

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Ori babbled, pulling back to reverently open the leather binding. He gasped again. “Oh, the penmanship…” Soon the younger was thoroughly enthralled in the journal, murmuring to himself about the skill involved in the lettering and exclaiming over whatever was written inside – Nori couldn't understand it, but he had no doubt Ori would be able to. Dori and Nori watched him fondly. 

“Where on earth did you encounter Rangers?” Dori asked, his eyes still on Ori. Nori glanced at him, but there was nothing judgmental in his tone; it seemed as if he was just genuinely curious. 

“Here in Bree, actually,” Nori admitted. “Word is they come through a few times a year.” Dori finally tore his gaze away from Ori to look at Nori, but Gandalf’s call to mount up stopped whatever reply he was going to make, and within the next half-hour the group of seven were riding on the road west toward Hobbiton. 

Every step closer they took toward Bilbo’s village the more uneasy Nori became. He kept telling himself it wasn't Bilbo that Gandalf had selected as the fourteenth member of their insane quest, and he kept it up until, damnably, they stopped in front of Bag End. At that point, Nori couldn’t help himself. It would have taken a greater dwarf than he to not do it.

He swore. 

Violently.

\---------------------------

_One hour earlier._

Bilbo sighed as he sat down to dinner. It was quiet in his kitchen, but the several weeks since Nori’s departure had been enough to accustom him to the dwarf’s absence. He wasn't happy about it, of course, but he would deal with it as he always had.

A heavy knock at his front door startled him out of reverie. He stared at his trout in confusion, as if it could possibly tell him who would be calling on him at this hour, before the knock came again. 

“Coming!” he called, standing and hurrying to the front door. He expected to see Bell Gamgee from down the road, or possibly even Gandalf or Nori, although it had been years since the dwarf had knocked on the door rather than simply letting himself in. Opening the door, Bilbo saw that he was almost half right. It was a dwarf, certainly, but not his dwarf. 

“Dwalin, at your service.” The dwarf bowed, although he didn’t move his eyes from Bilbo. Stunned, the hobbit only barely managed to remember his manners, as well as what Nori had taught him about interacting with other dwarfs, particularly warriors, as this one’s tattoos proclaimed him to be. 

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours,” Bilbo replied, returning the bow at the same inclination as it had been offered to him – a sign of respect, but not submission. “Can I help you?” 

“Is it through here?” Dwalin asked, stepping into the foyer and handing Bilbo his heavy fur cloak. Still bewildered, Bilbo hung it on a hook before turning back to his unexpected guest. 

“Is what where?” 

“Dinner, laddie. He said there’d be food!” Dwalin didn’t wait for Bilbo’s answer, which was fortunate as Bilbo was quite sure he couldn't concoct one at the moment. Instead, the large dwarf followed his nose to Bilbo’s kitchen. By the time Bilbo had come to his senses enough to follow, the trout was halfway gone. “I see the others haven’t arrived yet,” Dwalin grunted around a mouthful of fish. 

“Others? What –” And then Bilbo stopped short, because he was suddenly very sure of who was behind this.

Gandalf.

With a polite smile pasted on, Bilbo said, “Please help yourself if you’re still hungry. I trust you can manage while I change into something a little more appropriate.” He made a vague motion to his dressing gown before heading back deeper into his house, not waiting for the response he was certain Dwalin didn't bother to give. 

He was just securing his suspenders when a second knock came at the front door. Hurrying up to the front, he opened it again to find a second dwarf on his doorstep, smiling genially. This dwarf was much older than the first, judging by his shockingly white hair and beard.

“Good evening,” Bilbo said with a respectful bow to the elder. The white-haired dwarf nodded back agreeably. 

“Yes, it is – although I think it might rain later.” The dwarf stepped in, handing Bilbo his cloak. “Balin, son of Fundin, at your service,” he introduced. 

“Balin!” Dwalin’s enthusiastic greeting – and now that Bilbo thought about it, with such similar names, they were probably brothers – cut off Bilbo’s return introduction. The two dwarfs greeted each other with a resounding head smack, and Bilbo smiled despite himself. Thanks to Nori, he knew just how much of an affectionate, personal gesture that was, and he turned away for a moment to give them their space. After he had finished busying himself by hanging up the cloak, Bilbo turned back, but he was alone. He followed the noises to the pantry, where the two were busy selecting foods and carrying them out into the kitchen. 

“Excuse me, how many of you exactly are there supposed to be? It’s just, I haven’t had any time to prepare anything, and, well –” Twin knocks cut him off, which was just as well, as neither brother was listening to a word he was saying. 

With a sigh, Bilbo went to the door, resisting the urge to ignore it until whoever was waiting went away. He opened it for a third time, blinking somewhat in surprise at both the mischievous expressions he was met with and how young the two standing there seemed. They introduced themselves as Fili and Kili, another set of brothers, Bilbo was certain, and the hobbit was reluctantly charmed by their enthusiasm. However, even that could not temper the strain he was beginning to feel at this sudden and unexpected invasion of his home. 

“Gandalf sent you, didn't he?” he asked rhetorically. There was a headache in his future, he was certain of it. 

“Yes, he did!” the dark-haired one, Kili, said enthusiastically, bounding into his home. Fili followed his younger brother at a more leisurely pace, glancing at their host once. Within moments, Bilbo found his arms full of weapons, and it was a small mercy that the two decided not to wear cloaks that evening, as Bilbo was quite sure that he would not be able to hang them up as a good host should. 

Fili’s swords fell over twice before he finally gave up on balancing them against the wall and simply laid them down along the baseboards, piling the other knives and such on top. The time it took Bilbo to situate everything was more than enough time for four boisterous dwarfs, who had obviously not seen each other in some time, to decimate his pantry and kitchen. He sent a prayer to Yavanna that these four were the only dwarfs he was to expect. 

The knock at his door broke that prayer into a thousand crystalline pieces and scattered it to the winds. 

Bilbo wouldn't admit it, but he might have let out a tiny sob as he headed to the front door to answer it.

\---------------------------

Everyone stared at Nori as his curses tapered off. Ori’s cheeks were a flaming red, Dori was glaring at him disapprovingly, and the other dwarfs looked impressed at his range and creativity. Gandalf simply looked amused.

“Something the matter, Master Nori?” the wizard questioned mildly. 

“Oh, no, not at all,” Nori grumbled, ignoring their looks. “After you, please.” The wizard ignored Nori’s biting tone and instead led the group up the very familiar steps to an even more familiar green door. Nori let out an internal sigh at the rune carved into the door. He had repainted that a month ago and it was already ruined. Gandalf rapped on the door with the end of his staff. While the other dwarfs crowded near the door, eager to be let inside, Nori stood back with Gandalf. 

The steps inside grew closer before the door was suddenly yanked open and the cluster of dwarfs tumbled in. Although he couldn't see him, Nori could still hear Bilbo as he spoke. 

“Gandalf,” the hobbit growled, sounding distinctly unhappy. The pile of dwarfs disentangled themselves and one by one marched into Bag End, which somehow didn't seem so large anymore. Finally, Nori walked in, just a bit behind the wizard. “What on earth is – _Nori_.” Bilbo’s words cut off with a startled tone as he and Nori locked eyes. Dori looked between them suspiciously. 

“You two know each other?” he questioned. Bilbo blinked owlishly at Dori while Nori looked anywhere but at his brother. Neither knew quite how to answer the question. Bilbo felt hysterical laughter bubbling up and firmly squashed the impulse. 

“Dinner’s through that hall,” Bilbo said finally, deciding to ignore the question entirely. Although Dori was still looking at him peculiarly, the rest of the dwarfs trooped into the kitchen, more concerned with greeting their kin than their strange little host. Nori hesitated, looking to Bilbo, but the hobbit gave a soft nod in the direction of the kitchen, telling him without words that they would straighten things out later. Still uncertain, Nori nonetheless drifted toward where his kin were congregated, leaving Bilbo and Gandalf in the entry way. 

Bilbo turned a glare on the wizard. “Gandalf, _what are they doing here_?” he demanded furiously. 

“Well, at the moment, Bilbo, they’re here for dinner,” the wizard replied mildly, eyes crinkling up as he smiled. 

“They are going to destroy my dishes!” Bilbo protested, before deflating. “Not to mention my pantry,” he added wearily as he and Gandalf stood side-by-side in the doorway and watched the fiasco of a dinner commence. 

“Mister Boggins!” Kili called cheerfully over the cacophony from where he was sitting, ale splashing the ground as he waved a tankard wildly. “You stock a mean larder. Are you gonna join us?” Bilbo didn't know what struck him more – that the dwarf was complimenting the contents of his pantry, or that he was being invited to join in devouring said contents as if he were the guest instead of them! 

“No, Master Kili,” Bilbo replied, deciding to let the name slide as he had from the beginning. “Gandalf and I need to have words.” The young dwarf barely heard his reply, involved as he was with a conversation with his brother, and Bilbo had the uncomfortable feeling that being ignored by this group was going to become commonplace. “This is about that blasted adventure of yours, isn't it?” Bilbo grumbled. 

“That conversation, my young friend, should perhaps be saved for when the final member of this company arrives. He is, I’m afraid to say, a tad bit late.” Whatever response Bilbo was going to make was cut off as he heard his knives being banged on the table. Unfortunately, his attempts to get the dwarfs to stop only made it worse, and soon enough his china was flying through the air to the tune of an improvised song centered on all the things he hated. Gandalf, curse him, was standing on the edge of the disaster zone with pipe in hand and smile on face, enjoying the whole thing. 

“No, no, please don’t do that,” Bilbo attempted, but no one was listening, and he felt the frustration bubble up again. And then Nori was at his side, a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Nori said. “They won’t break anything.” 

“That is my mother’s china, Nori!” Bilbo hissed, unable to tear his wide eyes away from where they were being flung and caught. 

“Aye, I thought I recognized it,” Nori admitted. 

“Nori!”

“Look,” Nori soothed, gesturing to the table. “It’s all neatly stacked now, and nothing broken, see?” The other dwarfs laughed at Bilbo’s frantic expression as he finally moved forward, but only Nori saw the way the tense lines of Bilbo’s shoulders relaxed as he saw that Nori was telling the truth. 

A sudden, hard knock at the door caused the room to fall silent and Bilbo looked over curiously, wondering why the lively group was suddenly so subdued and tense. And then there was the sound of his front door opening, and Gandalf speaking, and a deep male voice answering him. At the sound of this voice, the dwarfs began to move into the foyer, presumably to greet the latecomer, and Bilbo followed curiously. This new dwarf was no taller than any of the others, yet he seemed to fill the space in a way that none of the others had achieved. He had dark hair, a closely-trimmed beard, and was clad in heavy furs that looked worn from long use. 

Gandalf brightened at Bilbo’s approach. “Ah! Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our Company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Thorin turned to assess Bilbo at Gandalf’s introduction. Bilbo paused under the heavy, critical blue gaze, and resisted the urge to shrink back. 

“He looks more like a grocer than a burglar,” Thorin noted dryly, and Bilbo’s eyes narrowed, even if internally he acknowledged the man’s point – but he was a hobbit, not a dwarf; what was Thorin expecting, exactly? Not him, he presumed. “Can you fight?” Thorin continued. Bilbo pursed his lips.

“I’m good with a knife,” Bilbo answered finally. It was true. Once he and Nori had established their relationship, the dwarf had wasted no time in teaching the hobbit self-defense. His life was dangerous, and while there wasn't much chance of anyone following him back to the Shire, Nori didn’t want to take chances with Bilbo’s safety. He taught Bilbo how to handle small knives, and even gifted Bilbo a set of his own – dwarf-made, of course. However, everything Bilbo knew was based around defense and self-extraction. He would undoubtedly skewer himself with a sword if he tried to use one and would not be joining any battles any time soon. 

“Hmm,” Thorin grumbled noncommittally. Belatedly, Bilbo remembered his manners; even if Thorin was being rude, that was no reason for him to do the same. 

“Dinner’s in the kitchen,” Bilbo said. “Can I hang your cloak?” Thorin glanced at him with something like amusement in his eyes, and not a moment later, Bilbo was staggering under the frankly outrageous weight of Thorin’s furs while the troop of dwarfs settled back into his kitchen.

“They will not come,” Thorin said finally after a few bites of stew and a drink of ale. There was a murmur of discontent that rumbled its way through the group, but they settled swiftly at a dark look from their leader. “It is of no matter. The portents say that the time is now. With or without their help, we shall travel to reclaim Erebor!” In the midst of the spontaneous cheers that arose, Bilbo let out a small, unheard noise as he made the connection. 

Erebor, of course. Well, that settled it. Clearly Gandalf wanted him along on this harebrained quest, for whatever reason, and he certainly wouldn't allow Nori to run all over Middle Earth without him. There was just the small matter of convincing Thorin that bringing him wouldn't be a mistake. 

“Gandalf tells us you are a burglar, Master Hobbit,” Thorin said, turning to Bilbo finally. 

“Gandalf perhaps may have exaggerated slightly,” Bilbo admitted, setting down the spare candle on the table by Thorin’s elbow. The attention of the entire company was now on him and Thorin. Thorin snorted. 

“Of course,” he muttered. The dwarf king turned to the wizard on his left. “Gandalf, what were you thinking? The hobbit’s no burglar, much less a warrior. He’ll get himself killed, if not us too!” Bilbo’s eyes narrowed as he felt his metaphorical hackles rise. Now, that was just unnecessarily rude. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Gandalf interrupted him. 

“Bilbo Baggins has more to offer than any of you know – including himself. If I say he is a burglar, than a burglar he is, Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf scolded. 

“He’s no burglar,” Nori interrupted roughly, glaring at the wizard. Surprised, everyone turned to look at him. He was sitting at the far end of the table, but his tense posture suggested he was ready to rise to his feet at any moment. His hands, resting on the table top, were white-knuckled with how hard he was clenching them. Nori kept his attention on Gandalf instead of turning to meet the familiar gaze he could feel boring into his side. “He’s better than that.” Silence fell in the kitchen as the dwarfs glanced between Gandalf, Nori, Thorin, and Bilbo. No one seemed to move. 

“Nori,” Bilbo said finally, “a word please.” Not waiting for a response, he grabbed the thief by the arm and practically dragged him from the room. They entered one of the spare bedrooms and Bilbo shut the door firmly behind him. He turned to face Nori, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Alright, what was that about?” Bilbo demanded. Nori met his eyes, but there was something Bilbo had never seen in them and it was an expression he couldn't quite define. 

“You’re _not_ a burglar, Bilbo,” Nori said quietly. “You’re not. You’re a respectable hobbit of the Shire who enjoys cooking, taking tea, mending his cousins’ clothes when they tear them on bushes, and…” Nori shook his head. “You’re a good man, Bilbo.” And finally, _finally_ , Bilbo figured it out. 

“And you think you’re not?” Bilbo demanded, somehow enraged at the thought of what Nori’s opinion of himself must be. “You think I don’t know who paid for Ori’s scrolls and ink when he was taking his Guild exams, or who put food on the table when Dori was fired from his job? How about the time you stayed up all night to take care of Ori when he was ill and Dori couldn’t be there?” Bilbo paused to breathe, observing how Nori was looking anywhere but at him. Bilbo took a step forward and took his face between his hands, raising it up so their eyes could lock.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Nori, since you apparently never got the message: _I don’t care that you’re a thief. I care that you weren't home with me_.” The silence in the room was pervasive. Nori’s eyes were wide, so wide, and somehow so lost that it made Bilbo want to curl around him and never let him go because Yavanna save him but he loved this stupid dwarf so much it hurt. 

“Why?” Nori finally asked. Bilbo smiled fondly and sighed, releasing the grip he had on Nori’s face to take his hand. 

“Because, I miss you when you’re gone, you great bloody idiot.” 

In the kitchen, the entire Company as one turned to look in the direction of the bedroom door as they heard it creak open. Bilbo exited, looking extremely satisfied with himself, and Nori followed behind, his expression a little confused, as if he had just heard something unexpected and was still attempting to figure it out. 

“Apologies,” Bilbo offered, sitting back down beside Gandalf as if nothing unusual were occurring. “We were talking about Erebor?” 

A short time later, the contract had been signed and was sitting on the table, drying. The dwarfs had separated into groups and were talking quietly amongst themselves, taking advantage of the peace and quiet to relax, some lighting pipes and causing the air to turn slightly sweet with the scent of pipe weed. 

After a bit, the dwarf with the hat – Bofur, if Bilbo’s memory served – shifted and pulled out a simple wooden flute from within his long coat. “You don’t mind, do you, Mister Baggins?” he asked cheerfully. “Evening is a traditional time for songs and such, especially when traveling.” 

“Oh, no, not at all,” Bilbo replied, sitting down in a window seat beside Nori. He handed Nori a cup of tea almost absently, the action clearly habitual, before turning his attention to his own. The tune Bofur struck up was cheerful, and obviously well-known, because many of the other dwarfs began humming along before a few began to sing the lyrics, a humorous story about a miner and a blacksmith’s daughter. 

And so that evening continued in the same vein; requests for songs were shouted to Bofur, who accommodated each easily. Most were fun, light-hearted ones, while some were clearly older, more traditional tales. A few times Dwalin even took to – well, Bilbo couldn't really call it singing. It was more a recitation to music than anything, but he spoke of brave warriors long dead and battles long past. Bilbo would be almost tempted to call it a dirge if it weren't for the fact that there was nothing _sad_ about it. 

The atmosphere was just settling down when Thorin, who had been sitting quietly near Balin, took to his feet. The low-burning fire cast shadows on him as he slowly began to sing in a low register, “ _Far over the Misty Mountains cold_ …” 

Bilbo sat frozen as the song commenced and the other dwarfs joined in, even Nori. This song was different from the others. It was full of pain, sadness, and longing. It didn't take Bilbo long to realize they were singing about Erebor. The dwarfs were quiet and settled as the last of the lyrics died from the room, until the melancholy was broken by Gandalf. 

“I think it is time for me to take my rest for the evening, my dear fellow,” the wizard said, straightening up cautiously from where he had been sitting in the one Man-sized chair Bilbo owned. Bilbo started. 

“Yes, of course.” He paused and assessed the group critically for a long moment. “Gandalf, the second spare bedroom in the back – you know the one – will suit you for the evening, I think.” And suddenly Bilbo was a whirlwind as he made sleeping plans for the dwarfs, ignoring their faint protests that they could manage just fine. 

Thorin had been shown to the other spare bedroom, and his nephews had tagged along, clearly intent on spreading their bedding on the floor there. Thorin raised no protests. Dwalin and Balin were left to the sitting room beside Thorin’s sleeping quarters; Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur were given space in the main sitting room closest to the front of the house; and Oin and Gloin claimed the second parlor near Gandalf’s room. Spare blankets and pillows had been evenly distributed to those without a bed. 

Bilbo paused only briefly when he got to Dori, Nori, and Ori before a grin split his features. Nori caught sight of it and swiftly picked up on his lover's intentions. 

“No,” he stated emphatically, even as Bilbo began to herd his brothers down the hall. “Bilbo, _no_ – Oh, Mahal,” Nori muttered in despair as Bilbo opened the door to the library. The noise that Ori omitted, oddly resembling a suppressed squeak of delight, drowned out his muttered oath. “He’ll never sleep now,” Nori continued, mostly to himself. 

Bilbo spared him a sweet smile over his shoulder as he left them in the library. And perhaps there was something to Bilbo’s actions, Nori admitted privately, as Ori was far too distracted by the Baggins family library to pay any attention to his brothers, allowing them the time they needed to have a discussion Nori would really rather they didn't. 

“You said he wasn't a thief,” Dori started after a quick glance to confirm Ori’s location. Nori shrugged, settling into an armchair. There was an air of comfort there, Dori noticed; it was the attitude of a person who was familiar with his surroundings. 

“He isn't,” Nori agreed. The two stared at each other for a moment. 

“Mister Baggins is his lover,” Ori said, popping up beside Dori. His arms were clutching three books, and his eyes were bright. Dori started at the unexpectedness of his arrival, while Nori merely grinned in appreciation of the entrance and the words. 

“Aye, it’s a good a word as any,” he agreed. Ori flashed him a grin and darted back to the books, content to leave his brothers alone again. In the wake of Dori’s surprise, Nori rose to his feet and stretched with exaggerated casualness. “Good talking with you, brother,” he said merrily before slipping from the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to clarify about Nori’s little episode in this chapter. Nori isn't ashamed of who he is, by any stretch of the imagination. He’s a thief and he does illegal things and he loves it. But he knows what the others think about him, especially those like Dwalin and Dori. His reputation and standing isn't important to him, but _Bilbo’s_ is. That’s why he was so insistent that Bilbo wasn't a burglar.


	3. Chapter III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quest begins. But, not before breakfast.

With most of the candles extinguished, Bag End was once more swathed in shadows, but not nearly as quiet as Nori was accustomed to. The sounds of snoring and rustling echoed throughout the structure, carried by the hallways. Nori found Bilbo in the kitchen, staring out the window. He had apparently been in the middle of washing the dishes, but now he stood still, hands immersed in the soapy water and eyes distant. 

Bilbo started as warm arms wrapped themselves around his waist, jostling the pile of dishes. “It’s just me,” Nori soothed softly, and Bilbo relaxed. 

“Why aren't you asleep?” Bilbo asked, turning back to his self-appointed chore. Nori picked up a dry cloth and began to briskly rub down the plates that were already dripping onto the counter-top. 

“I wanted to talk with you while we actually had privacy to do so,” Nori said. Bilbo hummed.

“Me too. Let’s finish the dishes and then we can talk,” he said after a moment. Between the two of them, the dishes were washed, dried, and put away within about ten minutes. The living room was taken, so Bilbo and Nori settled themselves in the kitchen. 

“I imagine you’re a bit upset,” Nori broached tentatively, his voice quiet in the kitchen, both in deference of the sleeping dwarfs nearby and also for the seriousness of the conversation. Bilbo gave a rueful quirk of the lips.

“Well, I was at first,” the hobbit admitted somewhat abashedly. “I figured it out, though.”

“I wanted to tell you, sweetheart,” Nori insisted. 

“Nori, it’s alright,” Bilbo reassured softly. “You were looking out for your brothers – and Ori really is as adorable as you said he was – and besides, you signed the same contract as I, with the same secrecy agreement.” Nori chuckled a bit at Bilbo’s comment about his baby brother as he nodded his agreement to the rest of Bilbo’s statement. Then his mood subdued again. 

“So, you forgive me?” Bilbo sighed, but it didn't stop the smile on his face. 

“Yes, Nori.” The two sat in silence for a long moment, taking in each other’s presence and eyes tracing the other’s face. Then, Bilbo broke it again by saying, “Your hair’s a mess. If you get me a comb, I’ll braid it before bed.” The speed at which Nori took to his feet was astounding. He disappeared down the back hallway to the master where his traveling pack was and appeared only a minute later with a fine-toothed comb in hand. With no prompting, he handed it to Bilbo and sat at his feet, placing his head directly underneath Bilbo’s small hands. With the ease born of long practice, Bilbo deftly undid each braid and peak, placing the beads and other trinkets to the side. 

The two couldn't really say how long they sat there, Bilbo methodically running the comb through Nori’s thick reddish brown hair and Nori murmuring to him softly in Khuzdul. Bilbo had no idea what he was saying, but the language was familiar enough that the sound of it relaxed him. 

The sound of softly approaching footsteps pulled Bilbo’s mind back to reality, and without pausing in his ministrations, he turned to look at Dwalin. The warrior was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face, but there was something faintly unsure, maybe reassessing, in his eyes. 

“He shouldn't be speaking that to ya,” Dwalin grumbled. The flow of words cut off at the sound of Dwalin’s voice, but aside from the thread of tension that suddenly appeared in Nori’s shoulders, the dwarf gave no indication that he was aware of the other’s presence. Bilbo shrugged as he best he could.

“I can’t understand it, Master Dwalin,” the hobbit reassured. Dwalin grunted noncommittally. “Did you need something?” Bilbo asked as the silence dragged on. It was rude, but Bilbo could not fathom a reason why Dwalin would be awake at this hour after everyone else had gone to sleep. 

“My brother said you and the thief were… well, that you were his companion,” Dwalin said almost awkwardly. “ Didn't believe him.” He eyed again where Bilbo had abandoned the comb and was now separating the long strands in obviously practiced movements. “Guess I was wrong.” 

Bilbo hummed. “ We've never made a secret of it,” he decided on eventually. There was a lot he wanted to say to Dwalin, but Dwalin and Nori’s relationship was a complicated one and this was hardly the time or place to be defending Nori’s honor, or his actions. 

Nori suddenly interrupted in Khuzdul, his voice pitched slightly louder; the words were clearly meant for Dwalin. The larger dwarf snapped something back in the same rough tone of voice before he paused, spoke again, and then turned and was gone. 

“What did you say?” Bilbo asked as he finished the braid and reached for a tie to hold it with. 

“That he needed to sleep if he was going to be any use tomorrow morning,” Nori answered promptly. Bilbo snorted. 

“Liar,” he accused. 

“Well, that was the intent, anyway,” Nori admitted shamelessly a moment later. He stood, holding out a hand to pull Bilbo to his feet. His long hair was out of its usual three-peaked style, instead being held in a simple sleeping braid, the end of which dangled past his waist. “Come on. Bed.” Bilbo allowed the action and Nori’s deflection and followed his lover down the hall to their bedroom. A single lantern cast a soft glow in the room from the bedside table. The two shed their clothes quickly before climbing into bed. Nori paused to blow out the light, bathing the room in darkness. As soon as he settled in, Bilbo was turning into his larger, warmer form, and a moment later one of Nori’s arms appeared to hold him in place. That was how they fell asleep.

\---------------------------

Nori and Bilbo were awake at first light. Bilbo lit the lamp and slipped from the room, padding down the hall to begin first breakfast while Nori fixed his hair. The second helping of bacon was already sizzling merrily in the pan when heavy footsteps heralded the arrival of the first dwarf. Bilbo glanced over, somehow not surprised to see that it was Thorin. He offered a nod.

“Good morning, Master Oakenshield,” he greeted carefully, sliding the bacon from the pan onto a plate. He laid down the final strips and began to break eggs while the bacon cooked. 

“Master Baggins,” Thorin offered back in a deep rumble. He eyed the plates of food that were piling up. “We were not intending to stay for breakfast,” Thorin stated bluntly.

“No need to start a quest on an empty stomach,” Bilbo replied lightly. He set out things for tea on the table, allowing Thorin to fix his own cup as he chose, and turned back to his meal preparations. After a moment, he heard the clinking of china and the distinct sounds of tea being poured and smiled to himself. So, even the great Thorin Oakenshield was not immune to a cup of tea and a good breakfast. 

Good to know.

By the time Gandalf and the rest of the dwarfs had awoken and moved into the kitchen, attracted by the smells or the sounds, Bilbo had managed to produce a veritable mound of bacon, eggs cooked three ways, thick slices of hot and cold ham, cheese, toast and fruit compotes, oatmeal with honey, fruit, potatoes, and another pot of tea with milk and sugar at the ready. There was also a small plate of biscuits and tea-cakes sitting to the side. 

The group didn't hesitate, voicing their thanks loudly as they piled plates – _not_ his mother’s china, thank you very much – high with food and dug in. Somehow, Bilbo found himself seated with Nori to his right and Bifur to his left. Bilbo didn’t know much about the quiet toymaker with an ax in his head, who only spoke in rough Iglishmek and an ancient form of Khuzdul, and he was ashamed to say he was a little unsure of him. Glancing down, Bilbo noticed that Bifur’s tea cup was empty, and good manners refused to let him pretend he hadn't noticed.

“More tea, Master Bifur?” Bilbo asked, already reaching for the tea pot. The dwarf nodded calmly, extending his cup to Bilbo, who refilled it. Bifur took it back with a rough word in Khuzdul that Bilbo took to mean ‘thank you,’ and Bilbo couldn't help but smile at him. “Milk or sugar?” he asked, but Bifur shook his head, and Bilbo assumed he must take it black. Bilbo turned back to his breakfast, seeing out of the corner of his eye that Bifur had already returned to his plate of fruit and oatmeal. 

After a while, Thorin leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, plate empty before him. Most of the company was also nearly finished with their meals, and so he did not hesitate in his next words. “Finish up and make sure you have everything,” he said. “We leave within the hour.” There was a general murmur of consensus and the sound of chairs scraping across the tile as those finished stood to place their plates in the sink and head off to make final preparations. 

Soon, the entire house was in a flurry. Bilbo had hastily rewashed the dishes and was standing in an out-of-the-way position with Nori, making sure everything was packed up and that he had everything Nori thought he might need. The last thing Bilbo retrieved were the knives Nori gifted him. Opening a simple cabinet of dark oak and bronze, he took out the set of three and unrolled the cloth they were stored in. The knives were simple and utilitarian, with sturdy black leather handles. The first was a short handheld double-edged dagger, perhaps five inches long, including handle and blade. The second was slightly longer and sharp only on one edge, meant primarily for cutting. The final blade was the longest of the three; the blade alone was four and a half inches. This knife, out of the entire set, was meant to cause damage. The blades were made of sturdy dwarfish steel, marked with the insignia of a well-known smith from the Iron Hills on the top of the blade near the grip. Although Bilbo had not had occasion to use them since they came into his possession, he nevertheless kept up their care, making sure the leather didn’t crack and polishing and sharpening the steel. 

He re-wrapped the set and laid it carefully in the top of his pack before his final item, a spare sweater, was carefully folded and laid on top. Then he clicked the buckles shut, secured his bedroll, and there was nothing left for him to do. He watched as the various dwarfs bustled through the house, scarcely taking notice as Nori slipped from his side to head after his brothers.

“Fili!” Kili called as he wandered by. “Has anyone seen Fili?” 

“You mean to tell me you lost your brother?” Gloin teased from the other side of the living room. Kili scoffed. 

“He lost himself,” Kili insisted. Bilbo felt himself smile, having just seen the blond dwarf not a moment ago.

“He went in the general direction of the third pantry,” Bilbo informed the archer. Kili beamed at him and immediately walked in the indicated direction. 

“Those two are close, aren't they?” Bilbo observed to Gloin. The red-hair dwarf snorted. 

“You've no idea, laddie,” he responded. “Never seen ‘em part save the one time Dwalin took Fili on patrol and not Kili.” 

“What happened?” Bilbo asked, intrigued. 

“Kili didn't sleep for three days and nearly burned down the house attempting to boil water, and Dwalin assures me that Fili tried to saddle his pony and ride back to town roughly three nights into the week, in his sleep,” Thorin answered from Bilbo’s left. There was an air of long-suffering amusement about the dwarf, but his face remained perfectly inscrutable. “Are you ready, Master Baggins?” 

“Ah – yes,” Bilbo stumbled slightly, looking himself and his pack over. 

“Good. Gloin?” 

“Aye,” came the affirmative. Thorin nodded shortly and went about the task of rounding up the rest of the dwarfs. It only took about twenty minutes before Bilbo found himself sitting most unhappily on a pony outside Bag End. To his right, Nori was seated smugly on a similar pony, directing a grin he couldn't quite contain at the hobbit. Bilbo grumbled something quite uncomplimentary toward him, ignoring how that only made Nori’s grin widen.

“A fine day for adventuring, Bilbo, is it not?” Gandalf asked expansively as the group began to move, angling toward the Great East Road that would take them past Bree. 

“I never agreed to ride a pony, Gandalf!” Bilbo hissed. And truly, the hobbit looked quite a sight, perched awkwardly on top of a brown mare that looked almost as uncomfortable as her rider. Gandalf smiled beatifically, eyes twinkling. 

“Did you expect to walk the entire way there, my dear fellow?” Gandalf questioned mildly. 

“I was perfectly willing to do so, yes,” Bilbo maintained stubbornly. He resolutely ignored the sound of Nori’s choked laughter. Gandalf’s reply was cut off by a call from the smial down the way. 

“Mister Baggins!” called Hamfast Gamgee. “Where are you going?” Bilbo looked at his gardener in surprise, as if he had entirely forgotten he lived there. 

“Take care of Bag End, Hamfast,” Bilbo called back. “Do not let Lobelia or Otho step one foot inside, even if you have to move in yourself!” 

“Of course, Mister Baggins. But… where are you going?” Hamfast had to cup both his hands around his mouth now, nearly out of range for the steadily moving group to hear him.

“I’m going on an adventure!” Bilbo cried back, just as they turned the bend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the awkward-seeming ending. This chapter didn't want to be written.


	4. Chapter IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stories are told and bonds are forged. The journey continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so this ended up being primarily fluff. I'm not sorry. And Ori is adorable.

To Ori’s credit, it only took him two days to talk to Bilbo. 

Bilbo had thought it would take much longer, judging by the way the poor lad turned bright red and hid behind Dori every time he and Bilbo made eye contact. Nori had assured Bilbo the first night that Ori was just incredibly shy around non-family members, but Bilbo didn’t mind. It was endearing, and reminded him of how his younger cousin Primula used to act around him. 

The second night they stopped to make camp, spreading their bedrolls on the eastern shore of the great Brandywine River, Ori tentatively headed toward Bilbo with the air of a man committing a great act of bravery. In the rest of the camp, the others had finished claiming their sleeping spots; Thorin had sent Dwalin and Kili to gather firewood for Gloin, and maybe a couple rabbits at the same time, and Bombur was pulling supplies for supper from his pack. 

Bilbo looked up from his pipe at the young dwarf’s approach and smiled invitingly. “May I sit with you, Mister Baggins?” Ori asked, fingers twisting in his mittens. 

“Oh, please,” Bilbo said, sitting up from his reclining position. Ori tentatively sat, folding his legs underneath him. Bilbo looked at him for a long moment. “Did Nori give you the journal?” he asked. Ori’s head shot up, looking at the hobbit with wide eyes. 

“Yes!” Ori answered. “Did… were you…?” He seemed at a loss of how to phrase the question.

“We were up in Bree for – honestly, I don’t even remember,” Bilbo answered with a laugh. “It’s not important, I suppose. Regardless, there was a group of Rangers that proved themselves particularly helpful to me, and they looked to be in need of more than one good meal, so I invited them for supper the following evening.” Bilbo shrugged. “They had some things that were in need of repair – buckles, straps, and the like – so Nori offered to do so in exchange for the journal.” 

“He didn’t steal it?” Ori sounded amazed, eyes traveling to where his older brother was badgering Dwalin by the fire. Bilbo snorted.

“Oh, most certainly not. You don’t steal from Rangers.” 

The two continued to converse back and forth, Ori relaxing around Bilbo after the story about the journal, until finally Ori asked the question Bilbo had been anticipating from the very beginning. “Will you tell me how you and Nori met?” Bilbo smiled fondly. 

“Ask me again later. I’m fairly certain others in the group would like to hear the story as well, don’t you think?” Ori nodded his head agreeably. That was fair enough. The two companions talked for a little while more before a call from Bombur that supper was ready interrupted them. Bilbo put out his pipe as Ori stood and the two headed over.

Dinner that night was made of the rabbits Kili and Dwalin had bagged earlier, along with an array of wild vegetables and sliced bread from their stores. It was seasoned well, a testament to Bombur’s cooking skills, even on the road. The group was taking the advantage of relative peace and safety to eat together around the fire without the distraction of setting multiple watches. After everyone had finished eating, the group rearranged, shifting to sit within their respective familial groups but staying close the warmth offered by the flames. Nori settled by Bilbo, taking the opportunity to press a brief kiss to his lips. 

“You and Ori getting on, sweetheart?” Nori asked softly, running an affectionate hand down Bilbo’s back. The hobbit smiled and nodded, reaching over to fiddle with a bead in Nori’s hair. 

“Oh! I almost forgot; he wanted to hear the story of how we met. I told him to ask me a little later.” A large grin grew on Nori’s face as he looked across the fire over to Ori and Dori. 

“Oi, Ori! Bilbo says you want to know how we met?” Nori’s words caused nearly all of the dwarfs plus the one wizard to focus on the pair. 

“Oh, yeah!” Kili interrupted, nudging his brother. “We were just wondering that, weren’t we, Fili?” 

“I have to admit I’m curious,” the blond admitted without shame. 

“Aye, go on,” Bofur urged, throwing in his own opinion as he moved closer. Even Thorin and Gandalf looked curious, Gandalf murmuring that he was “most intrigued” to hear the story. Bilbo and Nori exchanged a quick glance before Bilbo ceded the floor, so to speak, the older of the pair. Nori flashed Bilbo a grin and stretched out his legs before him, leaning against the traveling pack behind him. 

“Well, we first met in the Shire during the summer –”

“He assaulted my rose bushes,” Bilbo interrupted flatly, apparently forgetting his decision to allow Nori to tell the story. 

“I did no such thing!” Nori defended himself instantly. 

“Yes, you did, you assaulted my rose bushes and everybody knows it!” Bilbo accused the dwarf. “Poor Hamfast still holds a grudge for the blooms lost that day.” 

“Gentlemen, perhaps the rose bushes might wait for another day?” Gandalf intervened calmly in what was clearly an ages-old argument, although his lips were twitching. Across the fire, Fili was turned into his brother, shoulders shaking suspiciously, and Ori looked like he was hiding a grin behind his journal. 

“Of course,” Bilbo conceded after a moment. 

“Right,” Nori agreed, and pressed on with the story as if we hadn’t been interrupted at all. “As I was saying, it was in the Shire, during the summer, and I was hiding in Bilbo’s rose bushes.” 

“But, didn’t you just say –” Bombur tried, but was cut off by a harsh nudge from multiple dwarfs. 

“I had just fleeced a visiting lord in Bree for all he was worth, and as one might imagine he was slightly upset with the state of affairs.” Nori shook his head in mock sadness. “And Bilbo’s rose bushes were very large. Made a perfect hiding spot; they never found me.”

“Scared the wits out of me when I went out to snip a few for Lila Proudfoot and found a disheveled dwarf staring back,” Bilbo laughed. 

“I think he might have screamed.”

“Most certainly _not_. I do not scream.” A lascivious grin grew on Nori’s face and he opened his mouth, but a hand clapped over it. “Say nothing,” Bilbo growled. Nori held up his hands in surrender, and Bilbo nodded gratefully at Gloin, who tentatively removed his hand. The red-haired dwarf looked vaguely pained at the abrupt turn the conversation had nearly taken. 

“But, I was rather, hmm, shall we say, injured, so Bilbo took me inside and patched me up. Even fed me lunch.” Nori gave a fond look to the small figure seated beside him. “Things progressed from there, as they sometimes do.” 

“How long ago was this?” The question came from Dori, who was watching the pair with a complicated expression on his face. 

“Oh, eight years,” Bilbo answered. There was silence from the group for a moment as they realized the tale was over.

“Huh. That was somehow… anticlimactic,” Kili announced with a slight frown, causing Bilbo to laugh lightly. 

“What were you expecting? A daring heist against the Thain?” Kili shrugged. 

“I don’t know. But seriously, he was hiding in your rosebushes?” 

“Not your most auspicious hiding place,” Dwalin grunted, a gleam of slightly vindictive amusement in his eyes. 

“It was the _Shire_ ,” Nori snapped back defensively. “Did you see all that many hiding places while you were there?” 

“I wasn’t looking, thief, now was I?” Dwalin responded. Nori shifted to get up, but Thorin intervened before anyone else could. 

“Kili, Fili, wash the dishes,” he ordered, and both Dwalin and Nori sat back with faint grumbles, looking away from each other. It was only about an hour later that Bilbo took to his bedroll for the night. The hobbit was not used to traveling and found that the stress of the journey was tiring him quicker than his companions. Nori sent him off with a quick kiss, watching with soft eyes as Bilbo situated himself and turned on his side, curling easy under the layer of blankets. 

“Doesn’t this concern you?” Dwalin asked Thorin as they watched Nori watch Bilbo. The king looked grave, but considering. 

“No,” Thorin answered finally. “Nori’s attachment to the burglar only gives him greater incentive to not betray us, and vice-versa.” 

“I don’t trust him,” Dwalin growled, perhaps unnecessarily. Thorin’s half-smile was amused. 

“Who, the thief or the burglar?” Dwalin had no answer, but Thorin didn’t need one. “Peace, Dwalin. The hobbit may in fact be useless, but he’s also harmless, and while I don’t trust Nori specifically, his reasons for being here are above scrutiny. Try not to antagonize him.” Thorin paused, a gleam entering his eyes. “Well, not too much.” Dwalin’s answer was a bark of laughter. 

“Aye, my king.”

\---------------------------

“He seems nice,” Dori said evenly. The three sons of Vori were sitting together near Ori and Dori’s bedrolls. Ori was recording the day’s events in his journal, diligently keeping up with his duties as Company scribe, Dori was repairing a small tear in his outer-coat, and Nori was idly sharpening one of his small knives. Nori looked up at his brother’s remark, raising one braided eyebrow.

“He is,” Nori agreed in an equally neutral tone, resisting to the urge to look to Bilbo’s small form.

“I suppose that explains where you’ve been going all these years,” Dori said. Nori pursed his lips, setting aside his whetstone and knife to face his brother fully. 

“Are you trying to say something, Dori?” The silver-haired, immaculately braided dwarf looked away first after several long seconds, picking back up his sewing needle and thread and returning his attention to the task before him. 

“No, Nori, nothing,” Dori answered.

\---------------------------

“Dori doesn’t know how to approach you,” Ori confided, his tone gently unhappy. It was the sixth day into their journey, and it was raining. Ori had pulled his pony beside Bilbo’s, the two conversing softly as they did their best to ignore the cold rain soaking through their layers and dripping from their noses. Up ahead, Dori could be heard complaining to Gandalf about the rain, and Nori was closer to the front of the line, in deep discussion with Balin and Oin, although they could not hear about what. “He never expected…” Here he trailed off, unsure of how to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t offend the hobbit next to him.

“He never expected Nori to have anyone of his own,” Bilbo filled in. 

“Right,” Ori agreed, relieved that Bilbo wasn’t upset. “And I think he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing and offending you or making you feel unwelcome.” 

“I think I understand,” Bilbo said, and Ori smiled at him gratefully. “Do you believe it would be better if I approached him, then?” Bilbo asked. He was anxious to get to know Nori’s older brother; he knew that Nori cared for Dori greatly, for all that their relationship was at best strained. There was love there, certainly, but also a lot of hurt and a lot of misunderstanding. Ori gave the question its due consideration, fiddling with his knitting needles, even though it was too wet to take his balls of yarn from his pack. He eventually nodded. 

“It’s probably the only way this will ever get cleared up,” Ori agreed with a long-suffering air. Bilbo smiled fondly at him, wondering not for the first time what Ori’s life was like with Dori and Nori as his brothers. 

“Ori?” Bilbo broached. The scribe looked at him questioningly. “If you don’t mind, maybe you can tell me stories about Dori and Nori from when you were growing up?” Ori’s face brightened unexpectedly. 

“Oh, can I ever,” he laughed. “Our ma and pa died when I was just a little dwarrow – only twenty-three, I think – and so Dori became the mother of the household, of course. I remember this one time he was trying to purchase a new chair for the kitchen table…” 

Ori’s chatter filled the rest of the day, and Bilbo was content to listen, laughing along and adding his commentary as it was needed. The two scarcely noticed as the rain finally stopped, much to the relief of their traveling companions further ahead. 

“He didn’t,” Bilbo gasped, leaning forward slightly in his saddle to make sure he didn’t fall off in his laughter. 

“Mahal strike me down if I’m lyin’,” Ori assured, wiping away tears of mirth. “Nori was covered in it! I’ve never seen such a mess!” The two broke out into fresh waves of laughter, ignoring the looks from their traveling companions. Slowly their laughter died down until it was reduced to the occasional giggle or snort of laughter that couldn’t be repressed.

It was nearing evening, and within the hour Thorin was calling for them to halt that day’s travel and make camp.

His choice was a burnt-out shell of a home.


	5. Chapter V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trolls in the woods.

“Fili, Kili, you’re in charge of the ponies. Get them staked down and fed. Dori, Bofur, find enough wood to get a fire going. Gloin, Nori, see if you can hunt something for supper.” Thorin barked his orders to the group. The named six went to their tasks immediately, some with more grumbling than others. Thorin shot the two youngest dwarfs a fierce glare and they quieted instantly. In the remains of the house, Gandalf had cornered Thorin; Bilbo presumed they were discussing the road ahead.

Forgotten in the fervor of setting up camp for the night, Bilbo stared contemplatively at the house, handing Myrtle’s reins to Fili when the blond dwarf motioned for them. “You alright, Bilbo?” Fili asked, pausing for a moment in his task. Bilbo gave him a slightly startled look that relaxed into a warm smile. 

“Yes, it’s just… I don’t like this house.” Fili gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. 

“It was probably hit by Orcs some time ago, judging by how the wild has begun to overtake it,” Fili said honestly, shifting his grip on Myrtle’s reins. “But it’s still safer to camp here with minimal shelter than in the wilderness with none at all,” he reassured. Bilbo sighed and nodded, and Fili gave him a quick smile before leading Myrtle away with a few coaxing words. 

Bilbo sat his pack down and pulled out a spare sweater, pulling it on gratefully over his button-down. It was already beginning to feel a bit chilly, despite the crackling of the fire not too far away. He was just setting out his bedroll next to Nori’s when he and Gloin came back from the woods, empty-handed and with unsettled frowns on their faces. 

“No luck hunting?” Bombur called disappointedly. 

“No,” Nori replied. He was uneasy. It wasn't something anyone else would notice, but after eight years, Bilbo knew that when Nori’s fingers tapped that particular pattern on his left thigh, something was putting him on edge. “There was nothing to hunt.” Dwalin scoffed. 

“How can there be nothing to hunt?” the large warrior asked. 

“What he says,” Gloin broke in before the two could begin to argue again. “There was nothing to hunt. Bombur, it looks like you’re going to have to use whatever you have in your stores tonight.” The broad dwarf sighed discontentedly, rummaging through his pack and adding some ingredients to the merrily-bubbling pot hanging over the fire. Bilbo looked around the group and noticed that Dori was sitting on his own, not too far from where Nori and Ori were talking with each other. It was, Bilbo observed triumphantly, a perfect time to get to know the older brother. He had just risen to his feet and was beginning to walk over when Gandalf’s large, irritated voice shattered the calm of the gathering.

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarfs!” Gandalf cursed, storming away from an equally irate-looking Thorin, standing in the ruins of the house. 

“Where are you going?” Bilbo asked in confusion as it became apparent that Gandalf showed no signs of slowing his stride. 

“To seek the company of the only person with any sense around here!” Gandalf snapped back. 

“Who’s that?” Bilbo called as the grey wizard moved even further away.

“ _Myself_ , Master Baggins!” The dwarfs and one hobbit watched in a state of bewilderment as Gandalf’s tall, grey-clad form disappeared into the trees around them.

“Don’t worry yourself, laddie,” Balin said comfortingly as he approached Bilbo with two steaming bowls of stew in his hands. “He’ll be back.” He held out the bowls to Bilbo, who accepted them almost on auto-pilot. The white-haired dwarf smiled at him kindly, patting his shoulder. “Take these to the lads, will you?” 

“Which way did they go?” Bilbo asked hesitantly. Balin pointed the way and Bilbo nodded before heading off into the woods. It was already dark and the only things that kept him from giving into his growing nerves were the fire and the sounds of the dwarfs behind him and the neighs of ponies and the brothers’ shapes before him. 

The two were standing stock-still, and Bilbo’s brow furrowed as he came to stop between them and they didn't even look at him or the food he was holding. 

“What is it?” he asked warily, looking between the two.

“We’re supposed to be watching the ponies,” Fili said. 

Well, yes. 

“There used to be sixteen,” Kili continued. “Now there’s fourteen.” 

Well, ye – wait. 

What.

“What?” Bilbo voiced his thoughts. He set down the now only mildly warm stew, since it was clear neither brother was very interested in eating at the moment. “How do you lose two ponies?” 

“Never mind that,” Kili insisted, sounding worried. “We have to find them before uncle realizes we've lost them!” 

“By ourselves?” Bilbo asked incredulously. At their nods, he shook his head firmly. “No, no, and no. We’re going back to the camp and telling them two of the ponies made off and we’ll make a plan to find them.”

“We can’t!” Fili stopped him urgently. “We need to find them. You’ll help us, right? Bilbo, please?” Bilbo looked away from Fili’s pleading blue eyes only to meet Kili’s dark ones. He felt his resolve crumble and sighed. 

“Fine,” Bilbo allowed. “Lead on.” 

It only took a few minutes to find the ponies, carried in the arms of a massive – “Oh, you've got to be kidding me,” Fili muttered. A large troll lumbered by, two panicked ponies held in its grasp. Bilbo was quite distressed to notice that one was Myrtle, while the other appeared to be Minty. Through a gap in the trees, safely concealed by the trunk of a downed tree, the two dwarfs and one hobbit could see two more trolls, each as ugly as the first. The first deposited the ponies in a penned-in area already occupied by other horses and sheep and sat down by a fire with the other two. 

“They've got the ponies,” Kili muttered. 

“Someone’s got to do something!” Bilbo insisted. The Durin heirs looked at him. “Yes,” Kili agreed, “you should.” 

“Me? Wait, no –”

“Go on,” Fili insisted. “You’re quiet and small; they’ll never notice you.” Fili gave him an encouraging shove forward, making Bilbo stumble a couple steps closer to the trolls. 

“We’ll be right behind you,” Kili promised. Bilbo looked at them and came to a snap decision. The trolls could get peckish at any moment; they couldn't afford to lose two ponies waiting around for the rest of the company to concoct a retrieval plan. Bilbo reached out, grabbed a handful of Fili’s leather jerkin, and tugged him close. 

“I will try to get the ponies free while you and Kili go back for help. I don’t care who else you get, but you bring Nori, understand? _You bring me Nori_.” Fili looked at him peculiarly for a split second before a brief smile quirked his lips. 

“We will,” Fili promised before he and his brother disappeared into the trees, heading back to camp and leaving Bilbo to advance on the gathering of trolls alone. 

“This is the stupidest thing I've ever done,” Bilbo muttered to himself under his breath as he crept ever closer, his bare feet completely silent on the earth beneath them. He slowed his pace as he breached the edge of the small clearing the trolls were sitting in. 

“Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey if it don’t look like mutton again tomorrow,” one of the trolls complained in a thick accent. The resultant bickering helped cover the frightened whinnies of the ponies once they noticed Bilbo, who examined the knot holding the makeshift pen closed. The hobbit reached to his belt where his small knife was secured. 

Or rather, was supposed to be.

Bilbo felt the very uncharacteristic urge to swear well up as he remembered that he didn't have any of his knives with him. He had removed them and put them away as he did at the end of every day. He had no way to free the ponies. He looked around frantically, hoping to find something to sever the thick rope with before the trolls decided to turn around and notice him. A glint of fire on metal caught his attention and he paused, considering the filleting knife secured to the belt of the troll closest to him. 

This was so, so stupid. 

He was going to get himself killed and Nori was never going to forgive him.

Holding his breath, Bilbo snuck up behind the troll and reached out with trembling fingers to the knife. He had almost touched the handle when the troll got to its feet. Bilbo froze, but it sat down again after a moment. 

And then there was a grasping hand, and a gigantic sneeze and Bilbo found himself covered in troll snot. 

“Look what just came outta my nose!” the troll cried in alarm. 

Well, that went swimmingly.

\---------------------------

Nori was resisting the urge to stick a knife in Balin. The white-haired dwarf had sent Bilbo to take supper to Fili and Kili over fifteen minutes ago and he hadn't returned. The others seemed unconcerned, but they didn't know Bilbo like he did. His hobbit didn't simply miss a meal, not even for the sake of bonding with two people he was already getting along rather well with. No, something was wrong. This whole place was wrong, from the burnt-out shell of a home to the eerily empty woods.

A sudden crashing of noise from the woods had everyone on their feet and swords half-drawn before they realized it was only Fili and Kili.

“What’s happened?” Thorin demanded. 

“Trolls,” Fili reported, only slightly breathless. “They took two of the ponies.”

“Bilbo?” Nori snapped, hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically. If those foolish princes had put his _âzyungâl_ in danger, he would gut them, heirs to Erebor or not. Something must have shown in his voice or body language, because Fili had somehow eased a shoulder in front of Kili and Dori was moving closer to his side. 

“He went to see if he could free the ponies while we came back for help,” Fili answered evenly, eyes on Nori the whole time. The thief let out a truly vile curse and sprinted off in the direction of the ponies as fast as he could, pulling a knife from its sheath and ignoring the shouts for him to wait, that they needed a plan to deal with this. 

He leapt over the fallen tree, landing silently on his feet, and kept moving, slowing only when he heard Bilbo and the trolls and caught sight of their figures through the trees. He moved even closer until he had an unobstructed view of the clearing and could hear Bilbo and trolls’ voices clearly.

“What’s a burrahobbit?” One of the trolls demanded. 

“Never mind that, can we cook it?” Another interrupted. 

_Oh, no you cannot_ , Nori snarled silently.

With a practiced eye, Nori judged the distance between him and the troll holding Bilbo in the air. He shifted his grip on the handle of the knife in his right hand, took a deep breath, and sprung from the bushes. His aim struck true, the knife sinking deep into the knee of the troll. The troll gave a pained holler and flung Bilbo high into the air. 

Nori was waiting and caught Bilbo, letting out a small grunt as the hobbit’s body slammed into his arms. The dwarfs seemed to take that as their cue and leapt from the bushes with fierce war cries, attacking the surprised mountain trolls. 

“Nori, put me down,” Bilbo said, slightly breathlessly. 

“Bilbo –”

“Nori there are three mountain trolls and I still have to get the ponies. You can yell at me later, alright?” Bilbo interrupted. Nori looked at the fray and conceded the point, setting Bilbo on his feet somewhat reluctantly. Bilbo paused just long enough to kiss Nori before he was slipping away, trying to get around the fight and to where the panicked animals were penned. With nothing better to do, Nori pulled a new knife and joined the fight.

\---------------------------

Bilbo forced himself not to think about Nori as he tried to avoid dwarf and troll alike. If he thought about Nori, he would become distracted, and he couldn't afford to be distracted. So, Bilbo was absolutely not thinking about Nori, or how he had been absolutely convinced he was going to become troll-food before Nori showed up, or how he wanted nothing better than for Nori to not be fighting trolls right now, or how this was probably all his fault because he couldn't manage to remember a Yavanna-cursed knife.

He was almost halfway across when one of the trolls – he thought perhaps it was the second one – noticed him. “Come back ‘ere, burrahobbit!” it demanded, getting in Bilbo’s path. The hobbit tried moving left before quickly dashing right, hoping that he could slip around it or even between its legs, but he was just a touch too slow. For the second time in less than an hour, Bilbo found himself lifted off his feet. 

The troll holding him and another roughly took his arms and legs in grasp. “Lay down your arms!” the first yelled, “Or we’ll rip his off.” Silence fell swiftly in the clearing as the dwarfs noticed his predicament. For a moment nobody did anything, and then one of the trolls tightened his grasp, forcing Bilbo to emit a soft whimper of pain that he wished more than anything he could contain. His eyes sought Nori in the crowd and found the dwarf quickly. Nori looked anguished and helpless and angry and Bilbo wanted nothing more than to tell him it was okay, but it wasn't, it really wasn't okay, because he was about to be ripped apart by trolls and please he didn't want Nori to have to watch this – 

The sound of a sword impacting the ground stopped his increasingly desperate train of thought. He looked at Thorin, astonished, who was glaring at the trolls (or maybe him) in anger and disgust. One by one the company followed suit, throwing their weapons down at their feet. Even Ori tossed his down, although a slingshot was doubtlessly the least of the trolls’ concerns. Within the next few minutes, Bilbo and the others were trussed up in sacks, a handful being tied to a spit over the fire and the others put aside for later. 

Bilbo’s mind flew furiously. He had to figure out a way to save them. This whole thing was his fault and his responsibility to fix. He had to buy for time and wait for either Gandalf or the dawn. He had only one idea, and it was a rather half-baked one at that, but the situation could hardly become worse than it already was. With a few motions back and forth, he had gained enough momentum to roll to his side and push himself to his knees before hobbling gracelessly to his feet. 

“Wait!” he cried. “You’re making a terrible mistake!” 

“You can’t reason with them, Mister Baggins,” Dori hissed loudly. “They’re half-wits!” 

“I mean, with the seasoning, that is,” Bilbo continued on as if Dori hadn't spoken at all. 

“What _about_ the seasoning?” one of the trolls, the self-designated cook it appeared, asked threateningly. 

“Have you _smelled_ this lot? You’re going to need something a lot stronger than sage to make them taste any good!” Bilbo ignored the shouts of ‘traitor’ from the group behind him. “Besides, you’re going about it all wrong.”

“Whaddya mean?” the troll replied. It seemed as if he was almost interested in Bilbo’s response, turning his attention away from the dwarfs and to the hobbit. 

“There’s a secret to cooking dwarfs,” Bilbo confided, as if dwarf stew were a specialty he served regularly to guests. 

“Which is?” the troll asked impatiently. 

“Yes, the secret… Ah, the secret to cooking dwarfs is, um; that is, it’s, ah…”

“Tell us!” 

“I’m telling you!” Bilbo shot back, his voice slightly high with stress. It was this stress that caused him to blurt the first thing that came to mind. “The secret is to, ah, skin them first!” The shouts renewed in intensity, even as the troll demanded his filleting knife from one of the others. 

“This is gonna take forever,” the third troll complained. “Can’t we just eat them like they are? Why do we have to cook them?” As if to emphasize his point, the troll grabbed Bombur by the feet, tilting his head back and opening his mouth as if to swallow Bombur whole. Thankfully, Bilbo managed to delay him again with a hurried story about a parasite infection, but it seemed none of the dwarfs understood the concept of playing for time, because the protests renewed loudly and vigorously once again. 

Bilbo was about to give up when someone thankfully caught on. There was a thump, followed by a brief silent moment of clarity, and suddenly the parasite infection was rampant throughout the entire group. Unfortunately, Bilbo’s luck had run out. 

“There ain't no parasites!” the first troll exclaimed angrily. “He’s just stallin’!” 

Well, that was not the outcome Bilbo was hoping for. 

He grasped for something else to say, but the troll was clearly in no mood to be placated. He started toward Bilbo angrily and the hobbit thought it was all over, that this was how it was going to end, when someone else interfered. 

“ _The dawn will take you all!_ ” Gandalf’s voice boomed from behind the group. Raising his staff high, Gandalf brought it down on the rock below him, splitting it in two and allowing beautiful sunlight to flood the clearing. There was much commotion as the trolls mutated to stone and the dwarfs freed themselves from the sacks, quickly liberating those strung up over the flames. Bilbo struggled out of his own bindings and ran frantic eyes through the group, looking for one dwarf in particular. Nori spotted him first and called his name as he pushed past Oin and Kili. 

Nori and Bilbo’s foreheads met, not in a harsh smack, but in a gentle push. They stayed that way for several minutes, breathing the other in and assuring themselves that they were unharmed. Bilbo’s hands were holding almost desperately to Nori’s forearms, while Nori was cradling Bilbo’s face and running his thumbs over Bilbo’s cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo gasped. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Sweetheart, shh,” Nori soothed. “It wasn't your fault.” Bilbo quieted at the familiar pet name, but it still didn't ease the tension from his small frame, or from Nori’s. 

“Are you alright?” Bilbo asked, pulling back to look the dwarf over. If he was shaking, neither of them said anything about it. 

“Completely unharmed,” Nori assured. “You?” 

“A little bruised,” Bilbo said honestly. Nori did not appreciate Bilbo hiding injuries from him, even small ones. Nori’s lips pursed, but he didn't say anything. Considering everything, bruises were the best he could have hoped for. 

“Come, if there were mountain trolls here, they must have a cave nearby,” Gandalf said to the group at large as they gathered themselves. “We must find it.” Thankfully, it did not take long for them to locate the troll horde. Bilbo gagged at the stench emanating from the cave, pressing a hand to his mouth and willing his stomach to stay down. Even Nori grimaced. 

“I’ll just stay out here,” Bilbo said, a sick look on his face. It was a sentiment mirrored by Nori, Fili, Kili, Ori, Oin, and Balin. The rest of the group bravely headed in, swords at the ready just in case there was another troll or some other creature that had made the cave their home in the trolls’ absence. The seven waiting outside pulled back a little further, although never leaving the immediate vicinity. Bilbo couldn't help but think about the past six hours, and what would have happened had his ruse not worked, or Gandalf had not shown. Unconsciously, his hand reached over, feeling for Nori. 

“Are you hurt, lad?” Oin asked Bilbo. The hobbit started and looked over at the nearly-deaf dwarf. 

“Pardon?” Oin smiled at him kindly, as if he knew to where Bilbo’s thoughts had wandered. 

“Are you hurt?” he repeated the question patiently. “We can’t afford to have untreated wounds on the road. It’s too easy to take infection.” 

“Oh. No, Master Oin, quite unharmed, thank you. Just a few minor bruises.” Oin nodded. 

“Very well. But be sure to let me know if you do sustain injury,” the healer said sternly.

“Of course,” Bilbo promised. “Are you a healer, then?” Oin didn't appear to hear him, having turned to check over Ori, but Balin answered Bilbo’s question. 

“Oin was apprentice to the chief healer of Erebor’s Royal Infirmary before Smaug came,” Balin confided. “Healer Narvi was to relinquish his duties to Oin within a fortnight had Smaug not attacked.” 

“Did Narvi…?” Bilbo seemed unable to finish the question. “Forgive me, it’s certainly none of my business and I shouldn't like to intrude.” 

“Narvi fell protecting his patients,” Balin said. “It’s an honorable death for a dwarf of his profession.” 

“Bilbo!” A shout of the hobbit’s name caught everyone’s attention and they turned toward the cave where Gandalf, Thorin, and the rest of the dwarfs were emerging. Bilbo headed over to Gandalf, who had called for him. The wizard was carrying what appeared in his hands to be a small short-sword. “Here,” Gandalf said. “It should be just about the right size.” 

Bilbo took it tentatively, feeling quite awkward. “Gandalf, I don’t know how to use a sword,” Bilbo protested, because in his hands that’s exactly what it was. 

“And I hope you never have to,” Gandalf agreed heavily, but he leaned down and put his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders, drawing Bilbo’s attention from the elf-made blade and to the wizard. “Remember this: true courage comes not from taking a life, but knowing when to spare one.” The look Bilbo gave the wizard was equal parts bewildered and lost as Gandalf went over to Thorin and the rest of the company.

“That’s a well-made sword,” Nori noted, coming up beside Bilbo. 

“Nori, I can’t use a sword!” Bilbo protested. “I don’t know the first thing about swords, or axes, or any other weapons!”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Nori said gently, taking it from Bilbo. He adjusted the scabbard and belt with the ease of long practice and secured it to the belt on Bilbo’s left side. “We’ll teach you.” 

“Many of us are master swordsmen, Bilbo,” Kili said from behind Nori, causing Bilbo to start. Nori, for his part, showed no surprise at the younger prince’s presence, but it was to be expected that he noticed Kili’s approach. “We won’t let you run around without knowing how to handle it.” 

“Thank you, Kili,” Bilbo said softly. Kili gave him a cheeky smile. 

“If I teach you to use a sword, can I call you ‘sweetheart’ too?” he teased. The looks he was met with made him pause. Bilbo looked equal parts scandalized and reluctantly amused, but Nori was leveling a dark glare at him, and Kili remembered quite suddenly that Nori still blamed him and Fili for the entire troll fiasco. He shifted uncomfortably, preparing to make a quick getaway, when a rustling drew everyone’s attention.

“Something is coming!” Bofur cried, perhaps somewhat unnecessarily as the group drew closer, putting those less able to defend themselves – that was, Bilbo and Ori – in the center of the group. The noises grew louder and more urgent before out of the trees appeared – 

A man on a sleigh? 

A sleigh drawn by a team of rabbits, no less. 

Gandalf seemed to know him, judging by the way his face brightened and he greeted the fellow as “Radagast the Brown.” 

“Gandalf!” the other wizard gasped. “Something terrible has happened!” Gandalf’s brow furrowed and he drew the other to the side, speaking with him lowly but urgently. 

“Is that… bird droppings on his face?” Ori whispered tentatively. Snorts of laughter greeted his question. 

“Aye, so it appears,” Gloin replied. “I always thought wizard-folk were a bit _durjul_.” 

“Well, surely he’s not – what was that?” A howl broke through whatever defense Bilbo was going to offer for Radagast. “Was that a wolf?” 

“No, not a wolf,” Nori replied grimly, stepping closer to Bilbo and raising his long-handled mace defensively. A deep growl caught the attention of everyone in the glen and as one, they looked up. 

“A warg!” Dwalin shouted the alarm. With a snarl, the warg sprung down for the attack. Dwalin planted his feet wide and sturdily, hefting his ax. As soon as the warg was in range, he swung, catching the beast solidly in the neck. It was dead before it crashed into the ground in front of his feet. 

“Get the ponies; we need to move!” Thorin called. 

“We can’t!” Ori replied from where he had already scrambled for them. “ They've bolted!” 

“Who did you tell of your quest?” Gandalf shouted at Thorin. 

“No one,” Thorin shot back. 

“ _Who did you tell_?” Gandalf demanded again.

“No one, I swear! What is going on?” Gandalf’s expression was grave and tense, and worry burned brightly in his dark blue eyes. 

“You are being hunted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A question for all of my lovely readers: I am considering writing little interludes of other characters' perspectives on the relationship between Nori and Bilbo, primarily to break it up a little bit and bring in the thoughts of the other characters I can't easily integrate into the main story line. 
> 
> Is that something you would want to see? And if so, who would you like me to start with? 
> 
>  
> 
> âzyungâl = lover  
> durjul = curious/queer


	6. Interlude: Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin doesn't understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first in a series of other-character POV interludes that I will intersperse throughout the story, focusing on outsider perspectives of Bilbo/Nori. Enjoy!

Dwalin was confused.

It wasn't something he would admit aloud, not even to his elder brother, but in the privacy of his own thoughts, he could be honest with himself. 

He prided himself on being a good guardsman – one of the best, in fact. A large part of that was being able to predict and understand the thieves and criminals he chased after. He didn't catch Nori always; actually, as long as he was being honest with himself, Nori got away from him more often than not. But when he did catch him, it was because he predicted Nori’s movements or actions: what he would do in a particular situation, which direction he was going to turn, where he felt comfortable, where he didn't. 

Thus, two weeks ago Dwalin would have felt reasonably confident that he understood Nori, son of Vori. He was a thief. He took things that didn't belong to him and was rarely punished for it. He had no respect for anyone or anything, except maybe those brothers of his. He certainly had none for Dwalin or Thorin.

Hence the reason for Dwalin’s confusion. 

The burglar – Bilbo – was well-mannered and polite, quiet, and friendly, if a bit skittish. In short, he was the complete opposite of the type of person Dwalin imagined Nori bedding down with. And the thief was so careful and gentle with him. If Nori were anyone else, Dwalin would say that he was in love. 

But that was ridiculous, because Dwalin refused to believe that he had misjudged someone so badly. 

So Dwalin was confused, and as much as it shamed him, he was also resentful. Whatever was between Nori and Bilbo, love or not, it was good, that much was clear. Dwalin had never had that. He had come close, once, but Devar was killed at Azanulbizar before anything further could come of it. To think that Nori had spent all those years jeopardizing what he had with the burglar… for what? A few trinkets? The thrill of the chase? He didn't understand any of it. 

So, he did what came natural to him in respect to Nori – he snapped, he taunted, and he glared. And if he watched the thief and the burglar when no one else was looking, that was for him only. 

Maybe it would help him understand.


	7. Chapter VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group arrives in Rivendell. Some react better than others, and Bilbo finally gets a chance to talk to Dori.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not what I originally intended it to be, but I think it came out alright. Several characters decided to do things their own way.
> 
> Also.... I cannot write sex or fights for love or money, so the sex is only alluded to and the fight is somewhat glazed over. My apologies if you were looking forward to reading either.

Rivendell was lovely. 

Bilbo shook his head slightly as if dismissing the thought. No, that simply didn't do it justice. Imladris was the most beautiful place he had ever seen. His entire life, he had wanted to see elves and visit their cities. As a small child, he had delighted his mother and frustrated his father running to all ends of Hobbiton, looking for elves behind bushes. Finally getting the chance to visit one of their cities was all he had ever hoped for, and he wouldn't mind returning again someday. 

Albeit, perhaps a little less ingloriously than they had managed this time. 

There was little pride to be had in being chased by an Orc pack across open grassland, throwing oneself down a hidden ravine, ending up in Rivendell, and then offending one’s hosts as thoroughly as Thorin had just managed – although, Bilbo reconsidered, offense was certainly intended, but judging by the slightly patronizing smile currently on Lord Elrond’s face, little was taken. 

“You are more than welcome to join us for supper, of course,” Lord Elrond said. “I can arrange for someone to show you to the bathhouses in the meantime. Lindir, will you have fifteen rooms prepared for our guests?” 

“Fourteen,” Bilbo interrupted. The hobbit flushed red as the two elves turned to stare at him. He could hear Fili and Kili snickering in the background and silently vowed to take his revenge later. Nonetheless, he didn't look away from Elrond as he stepped closer to Nori, their shoulders brushing. “If you would, please,” he tacked on. 

“Of course, Master Hobbit,” Elrond replied with a warm smile. He turned again to go. 

“Might as well make it thirteen,” Kili stopped him. The tall elf lord turned back once more. Lindir was beginning to look slightly exasperated, but Elrond just looked amused, an eyebrow quirked slightly. Pink flushed high along Kili’s cheekbones and he couldn't quite look anybody dead-on. “I’ll just end up in Fili’s room anyway.” Tactfully, Elrond said nothing and left to confer with Gandalf while Lindir led Bilbo and the dwarfs through the open halls of Rivendell. 

It was a few minutes before the group, silent and almost hilariously mismatched, halted in an unoccupied stretch of hallway on the east side of Rivendell. “There are fourteen bedrooms in this wing, as well as a bathhouse,” he said neutrally. “Lord Elrond bids you make yourselves comfortable for as long as you are our guests.” He offered a slight bow and took his leave. 

“Uptight tree-hugger,” Gloin muttered irritably, and just like that, the mood was broken. With a few rough chuckles, the group dispersed to claim bedrooms. Nori tugged Bilbo into the nearest one by the hand, shutting the door firmly behind him. And then Bilbo and Nori were forced to admit, however reluctantly on Nori’s part, that there was something to be said for elfish architecture – outside sounds were almost completely muffled. 

“Oh, look at that,” Nori practically purred to Bilbo, ignoring the sound-muffling qualities of the walls in favor of what he deemed a far more important observation. “A nice, large bed.” Bilbo laughed as Nori tugged him down onto it, rolling them over so Bilbo was comfortably atop Nori. 

“Nori,” Bilbo tried, giggling slightly as Nori’s beard tickled where he was laying soft kisses on Bilbo’s neck. 

“Hmm?” Nori replied lazily. He moved his hands to rest on Bilbo’s hips, running his thumbs along the bone there. 

“Nori, stop,” Bilbo insisted, somewhat breathily. Nori paused, letting out a disappointed huff as he let his head drop back to the mattress, looking up at his hobbit. 

“Why?” Nori whined, not moving his hands. 

“Supper,” Bilbo said seriously. 

“Supper,” Nori deadpanned. “Bilbo, we have uninterrupted, _private_ access to a bed for the first time in almost a month and you’re concerned about supper.” Bilbo rolled off Nori, ignoring the thief’s half-hearted attempts to hold him in place. 

“Yes, Nori. Supper. We were invited and it’d be unbearably rude not to attend.” 

“Fine,” Nori sighed. 

When the pair arrived at the dining hall twenty-five minutes later, they were met with raised eyebrows from their traveling companions. “What?” Nori asked, slightly suspiciously as he and Bilbo took the last two open seats. 

“We, ah, weren't expecting you,” said Bofur, grinning broadly. Nori grumbled something very uncomplimentary in Khuzdul and threw a roll at the miner’s head, and just like that, the Company was the Company again. They hadn't forgotten they were in Rivendell – how could they, with elfish food on the table, elfish music in the background, and Elrond seated at an adjacent table with Thorin and Gandalf? – but rather, they were making a concerted effort to ignore it and just recuperate from the past twenty hours. 

They ate, talked, laughed, ate some more, and drank more than their fair share of elfish wine. However, despite Bilbo’s earlier insistence at not offending their hosts by skipping supper, it was clear that he was more than willing to pick up where he and Nori left off. 

“Nori,” Bilbo said casually while the rest of the table was being entertained by a particularly bawdy story from Dwalin. “Supper was excellent, wouldn't you agree? I’m quite ready for dessert, myself.” 

“Dessert? What dessert –” Nori stuttered to a halt at Bilbo’s pointed look. His cheeks were flushed from the wine and his eyes were bright and Nori was positive he had never seen anything more perfect. “Dessert, of course. Sounds fantastic.” With that, Nori pushed to his feet, pulled out Bilbo’s chair, and nearly dragged him from the room to the sound of catcalls and whistles from the other dwarfs. 

The force with which Nori carelessly threw the door shut behind them would have offended Bilbo at any other time, but right now he was too happy to care. Nori was right; it had been entirely too long since they’d had any privacy, and Bilbo had drunk just enough wine to not care about elves or dwarfs or dragons or anything else but Nori. 

Right now, it was just them.

\---------------------------

“I love you,” Bilbo sighed later into Nori’s chest. The two were a mess of naked limbs and sated flesh, wrapped around each other underneath the bed sheets. Neither had any idea how much time had passed, nor did they care.

“I love you,” Nori returned, cheek resting atop Bilbo’s curls. Then he let out a soft huff of laughter. 

“What?” Bilbo asked. 

“Dessert, Bilbo? Really?” He continued to laugh as Bilbo whacked him half-heartedly on the thigh. 

“I was drunk,” Bilbo defended. “It seemed perfectly subtle and appropriate at the time.” 

“It was certainly creative,” Nori conceded, mirth still in his voice. Bilbo grumbled wordlessly and buried his head further into Nori. 

“Shut up and let me sleep,” he protested, already feeling his eyelids drooping. Like the rest of the Company, he hadn't slept since the morning before the incident with the trolls, but unlike them, he was not accustomed to such deprivation, and the weariness was hitting him suddenly. 

The last thing Bilbo remembered before he fell asleep was feeling the sheet tugged up around his shoulders and soft words being whispered in Khuzdul.

\---------------------------

When Bilbo next woke, he was alone. The sheets were cold, showing that Nori had been gone for some time, but Bilbo was not upset – he was used to Nori going about his day without waiting for Bilbo. The room was awash with soft sunlight streaming in through the windows, which told Bilbo better than anything else that it was already late morning. The hobbit levered himself out of bed and fumbled in his pack for fresh clothing before leaving the room in search of the bathhouse Elrond and Lindir had promised. He saw no one during his short walk, nor was there anyone in the baths.

Stripping quickly and without any of his usual modesty, Bilbo sank into the warm water with a throaty groan of relief. He wasn't sure what felt better – the warm water on his sore muscles or the dirt dissolving from his skin. He washed quickly but thoroughly and allowed himself to linger, but not for too long. They were in Rivendell for now, but that could change at any time. If he really wanted to explore, he had to do it sooner rather than later. 

He dressed in brown corduroys, a stiff white button-down, a dark blue waistcoat, and his dark green jacket. His red waistcoat, Bilbo strongly suspected, was well beyond saving at this point, having sustained a nasty tear while sliding down the ravine, but he would find time this evening to sit down and see if it couldn't be repaired. Even this early into the journey, he knew that clothing was a precious commodity.

Bilbo encountered a few more elves as he moved further into the main area of Rivendell. They greeted him politely but didn't linger to make conversation, which Bilbo strangely appreciated. Having spent so much time in the company of unruly dwarfs, he found the silence peaceful and soothing. Eventually he found himself outside the great library; the double doors were sitting open, allowing the breeze and fresh air to blow in as it wished. Near the front a dark-haired elf sat writing at a large desk. Bilbo cleared his throat tentatively, and the elf looked up. 

“ _Mae govannen_ , Master Librarian,” Bilbo greeted. The elf gave him a peculiarly startled look, and Bilbo wondered for a brief moment if he had somehow messed up the pronunciation, before the elf relaxed into a warm smile. 

“Well met, indeed, Master Hobbit. I am Erestor. Can I help you?” 

“Bilbo Baggins, at your service,” Bilbo introduced himself with a polite bow. “I was hoping it would be permissible for me to look around the library for a bit?” Erestor smiled slightly. 

“You are more than welcome, of course. Books are arranged first by language, then by subject, and finally by Age of composition. Those written in Westron are kept in the far right, but should you read Sindarin as well as you speak it, those writings are kept in the center aisles.” Bilbo thanked him, bowing again, before moving back into the aisles of scrolls and bound tomes. After a few minutes of browsing the shelves, he pulled a book of elfish lore and settled himself at a table by a window to read. He was perhaps a chapter in, mouthing the Sindarin silently to himself as he read, when a rough voice dragged him to awareness.

“Burglar,” Thorin interrupted. He looked slightly uncomfortable, and his hard blue eyes looked at the book for a moment before they moved back to Bilbo. 

“Thorin,” Bilbo greeted back, somewhat unsure. He had up until now had little interaction with the leader of their Company, and despite Thorin’s ambivalent attitude towards him in Bag End, Bilbo was sure he had not endeared himself to Thorin after the episode with the trolls. 

“Gandalf and the elf wish you to join us in examining the map,” Thorin said eventually. Bilbo frowned but nonetheless stood and closed the book. 

“Did they say why?” he asked as he ducked into the aisle to reshelve it. 

“No,” Thorin answered as they left the library and turned right down the hall. They walked in silence for some minutes before Thorin spoke again. “You will need to learn how to use the blade Gandalf gave you.”

“Kili has offered to give me lessons,” Bilbo replied, and Thorin nodded firmly.

“Good. He and Fili will be able to teach you, as will Dwalin. I also want to evaluate your skills with your knifes.”

“I’ll arrange a sparring match with Nori,” responded Bilbo. Thorin gave another short nod, and that was the end of the conversation. Thorin led them to what looked to be Elrond’s study and entered through the cracked door without even a cursory knock to announce their presence. Elrond and Gandalf were already there. The wizard brightened at their approach.

“Ah, Bilbo! I see Thorin found you.” 

“I was exploring the library. It’s very impressive, Lord Elrond,” Bilbo offered. 

“I hope Erestor was not too unwelcoming,” Elrond replied, that oddly fond look reappearing on his face as he gazed down at Bilbo. “He can be overprotective of the books at times.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Bilbo hastened to assure him. “He was most accommodating.” 

“Elrond, Bilbo, perhaps you two may acquaint yourselves later?” Gandalf interrupted when it appeared as if the two would continue to exchange pleasantries. “Thorin, the map, please.” Thorin glowered, one hand protectively over his jacket. 

“It is an heirloom of my people,” he argued. “I won’t have it in the hands of an _elf_.” Gandalf simply looked exasperated. 

“We have discussed this! We need someone who can read those runes and Lord Elrond is one of the few left in Middle Earth still fluent in ancient Dwarfish!” Thorin scowled even harder, but just when Bilbo was convinced he would refuse again, Thorin relented with a sigh and slowly, very slowly, pulled the aging parchment from where it was kept.

Elrond sat down behind his desk and unfolded it upon the oak surface with all due care. Bilbo drew closer to see it again and noticed distantly Gandalf and Thorin doing the same; at any other time, the action would have made him laugh, but he was too consumed by the feeling of awe, excitement, and a bit of fear as he looked again at the stark reminder of where he was and what they were doing. 

“This is Erebor,” Elrond stated more than asked, touching careful fingers to the mountain. He looked sharply at Gandalf and Thorin. “What is your interest with this map?” 

“Oh, academic mostly,” Gandalf bluffed, and Thorin’s tense shoulders relaxed just a bit. “Old maps like these often have hidden runes and such written on them, you know.” The look Elrond gave the wizard said very clearly that he didn't believe a word, but nonetheless he returned his attention to the map in question. 

“You are correct, of course,” said the elf lord finally. “This map has an additional message inscribed in moon runes.” 

“Moon runes?” Bilbo asked, the term unfamiliar to him. 

“Runes that can only be read by the same moonlight in which they were written,” Elrond answered. “These, I believe, were written by the light of a midsummer crescent moon.” He turned his attention to Thorin then. “You are in luck, Master Oakenshield: the crescent moon is two nights from now.”

“Well now!” Gandalf said. “Then we shall have to impose upon your hospitality for just a bit longer, it would seem.”

“You are more than welcome,” Elrond answered politely. 

“Thank you,” Bilbo said earnestly when it became clear Thorin would offer no such pleasantries. The dwarf king scowled down at the hobbit and abruptly took him by the arm. 

“We have things to do, hobbit,” he said brusquely as he led him from the study. Bilbo made noises of protest as he was all but unceremoniously dragged from the room, and as soon as they were several hallways away from Elrond’s study, Thorin’s grip relented. 

“What was that for?” Bilbo asked, rubbing his arm. 

“Why are you here?” Thorin asked, ignoring Bilbo’s question entirely. Bilbo blinked. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“You are not a dwarf. You have no loyalty to myself, nor any reason to want to see the kingdom of Erebor restored as I do. So, I will ask again, why are you here?” Bilbo gave him a surprised glance. 

“I’m here because Nori’s here,” he answered simply. 

“There has to be more to it than that,” Thorin pressed. “It’s never that simple.” Bilbo shrugged. 

“I’m sorry, but it is.” Thorin made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat but said nothing more, so Bilbo did not offer. They found the rest of the Company in the courtyard near their rooms.

“Thorin, Bilbo!” Fili called the greeting good-naturedly, causing the others to turn and look in their direction. The pair split, Bilbo heading to Nori’s side. 

“Here I thought the elves kidnapped you,” Nori joked, an unasked question in his voice. 

“Just exploring,” Bilbo replied. Then he remembered. “Do you feel up to a good sparring match? With knives?” Nori raised a braided eyebrow, a gleam entering his eyes to match the grin beginning to pull at his mouth. 

“Thorin’s looking to test you, hmm?” he asked, already getting to his feet. The look Bilbo gave him said everything, and Nori barked a sharp laugh. “Sounds good to me,” he agreed, already moving to clear a space and warn the Company while Bilbo ducked back into their room to retrieve his knives. 

By the time he arrived back, the rest of the Company was just settling in for a good show. Bets were flying back and forth between the other dwarfs, not as to who would win, but rather how long Bilbo could hold out against the professional thief. The two shorter knives were tucked into Bilbo’s belt but he kept the third out, shifting his hold on the handle in what was clearly a practiced grip. And then, without any forewarning, Nori lunged at Bilbo, tackling him to the ground.

What followed was the oddest sparring match the dwarfs had ever seen, particularly for those who had been classically trained with a sword in what the warriors of the group considered ‘honorable combat.’ The two grappled and traded blows – carefully pulled so as to not hurt the other – just as often as they lashed out with their blades, although again being careful not to deal any true injury. A few minutes in, Nori somehow managed to land a lucky hit that had Bilbo’s knife skidding across the cobblestone and impacting Bombur’s boot. The hobbit didn't hesitate, hand moving to a spare, but Nori had already managed to pin Bilbo to the ground with a knife at his throat. Thorin whistled sharply and Nori pulled back, a bright gleam of adrenaline and excitement in his eyes. Bilbo sat up, slightly gingerly, although he too looked just as invigorated. 

“It’s been a while since we've done that,” Bilbo said. 

“You didn't kill him,” Thorin interrupted with a frown. 

“I’m sorry?” Bilbo asked, startled, as Nori snorted. 

“You landed no lethal hits, nor did you even try to. I only saw a few moves which would temporarily incapacitate your opponent should you manage to strike true.” Bilbo was also frowning now, pushing to his feet to gather his wayward knife. 

“I wasn't trying to kill him, or my fictional opponent, as it were,” replied Bilbo finally, turning back to face the leader of their company. “Nori taught me defense, not offense.” 

“So you lied to me, then.”

“I did no such thing!” Bilbo defended himself. 

“That first night in the Shire, I asked you if you had any weapons experience, and you told me you could handle knives. If you couldn't fight, as clearly you can’t, you should have never implied that you could!” Bilbo looked completely lost, standing helplessly under the storm of Thorin’s sudden rage. Beside him, Nori was glowering darkly, hands tensing on the handle of the one slim knife he still had drawn.

“Thorin,” Nori started slowly, his voice tight with suppressed anger. 

“I’ll not hear any words from you, Nori!” Thorin snapped. “He put the entire Company in danger by allowing us to believe he is more skilled than he actually is.” 

“Bilbo is not responsible for your assumptions!” Nori hissed back viciously. 

“No, just our lives,” Thorin replied cynically. “Fili, Kili, Dwalin, teach the Halfling how to use that letter-opener. Perhaps he’ll have better luck with that.” With that, Thorin stalked off, every line of his body taut. 

Nori watched him leave for a moment, the dark gleam still in his eyes, before he shook it off and turned his attention to his partner. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” Nori murmured quietly, moving to Bilbo’s side and pressing a hand to his back. Bilbo was still standing stock-still, a dismayed look on his face. 

“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just… I don’t…” Bilbo sighed. Then there was a presence at his other side, along with a warm hand on his arm, and Bilbo looked over to see Fili looking back at him with a sympathetic gaze. 

“Come on,” he said. “Go get your sword and we’ll teach you the basics today while we still have daylight.” Bilbo let out another sigh and then straightened, doing his best to push the incident from his mind. A second quick trip to his room had him exchanging the dwarfish knives for the elfish blade. He was tempted to just stay in there and curl under the blankets that smelled like him and Nori, but that would probably just give Thorin cause to yell at him again. He headed back out to the courtyard again, where Fili was waiting with one of his own swords. Kili was standing beside him, weaponless. 

“I’ll get you started,” Fili said. “Dwalin’s a good teacher, but he can be a bit overbearing.” Fili’s wry grin and Kili’s laugh were full of personal experience and despite himself, Bilbo smiled back. He wouldn't mind hearing some of those stories, if they ever got the chance. 

Fili held his sword and demonstrated the proper grip and stance, watching critically as Bilbo mimicked his actions. “Now, this is first position. Kili, if you could…?” Fili’s younger brother moved over to Bilbo, adjusting his grip slightly and moving his feet just a bit wider apart. A few nudges brought his hips forward just slightly. 

“Feel how much more stable that is, Bilbo? That’s what you want to practice,” Kili said as he made his adjustments. Fili nodded his approval. 

“Good, now if you bring up your blade like so…”

\---------------------------

It was after supper that evening that Bilbo finally got the opportunity he had been waiting all week for. He was sore from his spar with Nori and then his lessons with Fili and Kili, but the brothers had assured him his body would grow used to it, and in the meantime, a hot bath never hurt anything as long as it was available. Bilbo fully intended on doing just that later, but right now, Dori was mending what looked to be a pair of Ori’s trousers, and as it so happened, Bilbo had some mending of his own to do.

“May I sit with you, Master Dori?” he asked, deciding that perhaps Ori’s approach was best and holding up his own damaged waistcoat as an excuse for his presence. Dori glanced up and offered a polite smile. 

“Of course,” he responded, shifting aside to make room for Bilbo on the elaborately carved stone bench he was seated at. Bilbo sat down, spreading his waistcoat over his lap and pulling out his sewing kit. After a moment’s deliberation, Bilbo selected a red thread and expertly threaded his needle with it. Bilbo considered the fabric for a minute, trying to figure out the best way to approach the frankly massive rip in the back. Finally he sighed desolately and began to simply sew it together with no hope of hiding it. “Do you do much sewing, Master Baggins?” Dori asked, looking over at the sound.

“Just Bilbo, please. And I suppose I do; my younger cousins are always tearing their clothes. Unfortunately, there’s no graceful way to fix this,” he added, nodding to the waistcoat. Dori made a noise of agreement as he saw exactly what Bilbo was contending with. The conversation died and silence once more fell over the pair. Bilbo made quick work of the waistcoat and neatly tied off the thread before snipping it off with the small pair of scissors in his kit. 

“Master Dori?” Bilbo broached. 

“Yes?” Dori responded, looking up again from his much more meticulous work. 

“This won’t be very eloquent, but please bear with me a moment.” Bilbo took a deep breath and then continued, “Hobbits are a very formal people, with outsiders and especially within the Shire. Affectionate nicknames, like the one Nori uses with me, are usually only between parent and child… or between married couples.” 

“Are you saying that you and Nori are married by hobbit tradition?” Dori asked in surprise. 

“Well, not entirely, as there was no formal acceptance party, but other hobbits would likely consider us as such. It’s for the same reason that I braid Nori’s hair before we sleep and brush it out for him when we have privacy.” Bilbo’s hands tightened in his waistcoat, the only sign of how nervous he was. “My point is, Master Dori, Nori is my family, and I also consider Ori family. I would… I would very much like the opportunity to consider you a brother as well… if that’s alright.” Bilbo waited nervously as Dori considered him and what he had just said. Finally, the older dwarf smiled slightly. 

“Just Dori, please.” Bilbo relaxed and smiled. 

“Dori, then,” he agreed. 

In the shadows, Nori smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to establish the timeline in case you are a bit lost... The morning after the trolls to when Bilbo and Nori get drunk and sneak off together is one day, and when Bilbo wakes up and begins exploring to the end of the chapter is a second day. There will be two more days in Rivendell after this.


	8. Interlude: Dori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dori knew he was never a good brother to Nori, and that's why, no matter how much it hurt, he could never blame him for not telling him about Bilbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to put two interludes so close together, but the next full chapter has been slow in the coming and I didn't want to leave all of you hanging without at least _something_. Please enjoy Dori's angsty inner monologue regarding Nori and Bilbo!

Dori loved his brother, but most days, he did not like him. He had learned long ago that the two were not necessarily mutually inclusive when it came to the consideration of family, particularly law-breaking younger brothers. Dori couldn't say exactly when it was that Nori began thieving, although he strongly suspected it was well before Nori reached his maturity, but by the time Nori was eighty, Dori was seeing less and less of his troublesome younger brother. Most days, he couldn't bring himself to care – he had enough trouble taking care of Ori to worry about whatever problems Nori was inviting down upon himself. 

And Dori _knew_ it wasn't fair to Nori. Whatever else his brother did, Nori had always made sure that Ori had whatever he needed, be it clothing, ink, parchment, books, or practical lessons in survival. But Dori couldn't take care of two of them; Nori had made his decision long ago and without consideration of either of his brothers, and Dori had to do the best he could with that.

That was why Dori was completely unsurprised to realize that Nori had never once mentioned Bilbo to him, although it seemed the hobbit was spoken of plenty in Nori’s letters to Ori. Frankly, Dori didn't blame Nori for not trusting him with the man he loved. And it hurt. Because Dori couldn't deny that if he were in Nori’s place, he wouldn't have told him about his lover, either. He wouldn't have trusted him with something that personal and vulnerable when Dori had done nothing to earn that trust. 

Dori tried his hardest to keep his distance during the quest. He didn't know what to say to Bilbo, or how to approach him, and Dori would never forgive himself if he somehow managed to scare the little thing away. He enjoyed seeing Nori smile too much to ever do such a thing. It wasn't until after the fiasco with the trolls and the escape to Rivendell that Dori began to suspect that there was no way he could ever manage such a thing. 

After all, love was a powerful motivator, and any dwarf could see that Bilbo Baggins loved Nori, son of Vori. 

Dori wasn't sure yet (wouldn't be sure for a very, very long time) but he suspected he may just be able to make room in his heart for one more family member. 

And perhaps, if things went very, very well, he and Nori could learn how to be brothers again, too.


End file.
